Here's what happens in the life of a neurotic post-infertile pregnant lady when she's not over-analyzing her life.
I have indigestion today for the first time as a pregnant lady. I am thrilled to have indigestion. Really.
I was warned not to get "What to Expect When You're Expecting." But a friend loaned me a copy, and god I was too curious to pass it up. To be honest, I thought there might be some really juicy pregnancy secrets in there. There's not. Just a lot of talk about gas and discharge and whether or not I'll have insecurities about my changing figure. And while the book is more histrionic than anything else, "What to Expect" has me expecting (and oddly enough, wanting) indigestion.
So now that I have it, I feel normal. And sort of burny in the chest area.
I have been battling a weevil infestation. In my house, not my body. Let's be clear on that. Either way, I am disgusted and hateful towards weevils. I swear my house is clean. Yet I have these crawly little brownish-black things all over my counter tops and in my cereal boxes. This weekend I emptied out all of my food cabinets in a passionate anti-weevil campaign. I threw away half my pantry supplies which has resulted in me becoming a hungry-grumpy pregnant lady for much of the week. If you haven't cleaned out your food cabinets lately, well. Let's just say you might be surprised at what you find festering in there. On my part, I found many gems, the best of which was a gallon bag of steel cut oats that had majestically transformed into a gloppy mess of green mold and weevil larvae. Oatmeal, anyone?
I am patiently waiting for random acts of kindness from strangers. I've heard that being pregnant brings on hoards of people just falling over themselves waiting to be kind and loving toward you. Not so much for this girl. Not that anyone has been unkind, per se. Except for that one day when a co-worker looked at me and said, "god, you're fat." That was not so much kind. But otherwise, people just treat me kind of normal. Like the girl in the grocery store parking lot who almost ran me down today as I waddled to my car.
I have a new game I use to entertain myself and remind myself of just how amazingly pregnant I am. I have given this game the uber-creative moniker, "the shower game". Here's how it goes: every day when I take a shower, I make my back all straight and correct-postured. Then I bend forward at the waist while keeping my back straight. I bend bend bend until I can see all my pieces. Once I've positively identified all my pieces, I make a mental note of my waist angle. A couple of weeks ago when I started this little game, I was at about a 25 degree angle. These days, I'm at about 35 degrees. I find myself looking forward tremendously to 45 degrees. 90 degrees would be neat too. Except that by the time I get that big, I have a feeling that I'll need some weird sort of mirrored contraption to find all my pieces. And I probably won't be able to get back up. And then my husband will find me all stuck and bent in the shower. And I'll have to admit to him my little shower game.
I bet I'll be a neat mom.